LIRO || completed

• 13.1 •

If Liro listened closely enough, she could hear the voices of her sisters among the rustling of the forest.

The hiss of Emina, as she prowled around her prey.

Yasri's rough voice, low and prickly as the thorns on the brushes catching at Liro's ankles.

She almost fooled herself into believing that they were there, beside her. As though they were sisters once more, guarding each others backs and advancing on account of all three. For a moment, Liro almost missed them.

Almost.

Liro readjusted her grip on her dagger, unease making the palm of her hand slick with sweat. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt mortal fear violently. She would be in no hurry to experience it again. 

At least that thought was clear in her mind.

Despite the muddle of her emotions at her current situation, at least she knew herself rather well. That much was enough to keep her putting one foot in front of the other, the soft crunch of her foot breaking twigs always urging her onwards.

It was almost like she was leaving one form of danger behind, and charging headlong into another. Kier, with his backstabbing blades and impossibly complicated motives. Comparing that to the comfortable cruelty of her sisters was almost impossible.

One felt like a threat; the other felt like arms extending outwards to embrace her.

Unluckily, she didn't quite know which one invoked which emotion.

Seeing the body in the forest had rattled her, and so had Kier's nonchalance about the matter. Though she had hidden some of her own horror, so perhaps she could not fault him entirely for concealing his.

She was being generous towards him in assuming he had felt revulsion.

Liro was being generous towards herself in pretending that her horror had contained any great magnitude.

She was, somehow, allowing herself to make excused for her actions and feelings. And as unacceptable as that was, she also couldn't bear to face the fact that she was traipsing through a darkened woods while the moon was high. Alone.

It seemed the height of bad decisions.

But if there was another body, she would be able to get a sense of their route. If she checked the woods now, and there was no body, but there was one on their returning journey, it would be best to assume that they were following her.

If she found a body now, then she would know that as much as they wanted to hurt her, she wasn't their main target. That they had something bigger, better planned than just wounding their baby sister.

Not that she would be able to see much now, anyways. But it was almost better. If she didn't find a body, she could almost convince herself that she was still their main focus, the treasure that they hunted and hated and desired.

Because if she was no longer their sister, perhaps she could at least provide them with a worthy adversary. 

She had no want to belong to the closely knit sisterhood.

She wanted to play with them, like dragging a thread of yarn before a kitten, and then yanking it too far out of reach. 

No, Liro did not want to be their sister. That word meant little to nothing to her now.

What she wanted was what had gotten her expelled from their sisterhood prematurely. Power, immortality. Everything that would have made her so distinguishable that it would have been dangerous to turn a blind eye to her.